


Mornings

by woodelf



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: And a wee bit of angst, Because inquiring readers wanted to know, Canon Divergence - Thor: The Dark World, F/M, Family Fluff, Kid Loki (Marvel), Kid Thor (Marvel), Loki Gets Lots of Hugs, Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Loki making better choices before The Bad Thing happens, Now with more frog!Thor, Odin (Marvel)'s Good Parenting, Parent Frigga (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodelf/pseuds/woodelf
Summary: A loosely-connected series of scenes throughout Loki's life, from infancy to a canon-divergent future.
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja & Loki & Odin & Thor (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja & Loki (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja & Thor (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja/Odin (Marvel), Loki & Odin (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki and Ullr, Loki/Sif (Marvel), Sif and Ullr
Comments: 17
Kudos: 50





	Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Loki's approximate age in each scene is as follows (with the years being the Midgardian equivalents): Scene one -- Less than a year old. Scene two -- about 5. Scene three -- about ten, picture the movie flashback scene of kids Thor and Loki. Scene four -- about 15. Scene five -- close to 20, canon Loki as he appeared in his cell in The Dark World. Scene six -- close to 30, although it's reader's choice about how quickly they want things to have progressed between the last two scenes.

  
  


The querulous cry of a newly awakened baby rang out in the quiet of the room. 

From her position with her head comfortably pillowed on her husband’s chest, Frigga held her breath, hoping. Perhaps he --

The cry came again, more demanding. 

She huffed a resigned laugh and started to push herself up. “At least he waited until we were done.”

Odin slid out from under her. “Stay; I’ll fetch him.” Pulling on the robe draped over the end of the bed, he padded across to the cradle on the opposite side of the room and smiled down at his seven month old son, who immediately reached for him. “Hello there,” said Odin, ridiculously pleased, as always, when Loki quieted as soon as Odin picked him up, laying his head against Odin’s shoulder and putting his fingers into his mouth to suck on them. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” He pressed a fond kiss to Loki’s silky black curls, cradling the boy against his chest as he automatically checked his diaper. “Yes, you are. You don’t keep fussing once you’ve got someone’s attention. Now Thor -- well, let’s just say that your brother was always a bit more fond of the sound of his own voice.” While he was more than happy to leave this particular task to Frigga or the servants during the day, Odin was not so incompetent that he could not make quick work of changing Loki into a dry diaper, as he did so now. That taken care of, he picked Loki back up and returned to the bed. 

“What do you say? Are you hungry? Do you want your amma?” He sat down on the side of the bed and passed Loki into Frigga’s waiting arms. 

“Hello, my sweet son,” Frigga cooed, bringing Loki under the fur with her and guiding him to her breast. That first day, when a hungry baby had been placed in her arms, there’d been no time to look for a wet nurse, and when Loki had taken the goat’s milk she’d sent for without any problems, she had been reluctant to seek one out, selfishly not wanting to hand him over to another woman every couple of hours. If he was to be her son, she wanted him to look to _her_ for both comfort and nourishment, and she knew well enough that there were herbs to bring in a woman’s milk, and had soon found a spell to hasten their effects. They had told the court that she had hidden her pregnancy with magic, lest word of her vulnerable state reach Laufey’s ears and make her more of a target for foul play with Odin and most of Asgard’s warriors away fighting in the war. It had been easy enough to add, to those in her retinue close enough to express concern, that the magic had delayed her milk coming in. She could still remember the fierce rush of satisfaction a few weeks later when she had been able to nurse Loki herself for the first time, her heart whispering “ _mine_ ”, that feeling of him becoming really and truly hers. Not born of her body, but nourished by it, and he had thrived and grown apace ever since. If there had been the inevitable whispers that Odin had brought home a war bastard, most died away quickly enough as all saw how she doted on Loki, and Odin had, fortunately, come home for a brief visit around the time that Loki would have been conceived. Loki turned into her now and she felt her milk let down as he began suckling hungrily, his eyes fixed steadily on hers. She relaxed into the comfort of the pillows and furs, running a gentle finger down his snub nose and smiling as his eyes crossed as he tried to focus on it. Odin lay back down beside her and gently took hold of one of Loki’s feet, smiling as the tiny toes curled in response to his stroking thumb and Loki’s eyes cut briefly to him before refocusing on her. 

“Who’s that?” she asked softly. “Is that your pabbi?” She glanced at Odin and Loki followed her gaze, his small hand starfishing against her. “Yes, it is! And do you know how you can tell, hm? Because you called and he came. There are not many who can command the king of Asgard like that, you know.” 

Odin chuckled and slid back under the fur, coaxing Frigga’s head onto his shoulder so he could wrap one arm around wife and son both and use the other to run his hand through the long, heavy waves of her hair, shining golden in the gentle early morning light that illuminated the room. “Very true. And two of the three people who can are in this room.” 

Frigga made a contented noise and relaxed even further, letting her eyes drift half shut in pleasure. The duties of the day would claim the king soon enough, but in that moment, he was simply her husband, and a father, and she cherished every second of such times. 

* * *

  
  
“We’re about to be invaded,” Odin murmured, hearing the patter of four small feet and the whisper of hushed voices outside their door. It was his favourite time of the day, that early morning hour when he lay relaxed and comfortable with Frigga and they talked about their plans for the upcoming day. 

“One of the perils of having children.” she said, smiling. 

“But perhaps also one of the pleasures?” he suggested, smiling back. “Admit it, you will be sad when they have grown too much to come tumbling in like overexcited puppies at the break of day on occasion.”

Frigga laughed. “You are quite right. I shall no doubt be proud of the fine young men they grow into, but I shall miss my little boys.” 

_"Should I knock? Maybe they’re still sleeping.”_

_"Knock softly!”_

A subdued knock sounded on their door, and Frigga called “Come in!”

Thor and Loki burst into the room, still in their sleep clothes. “Happy Name Day!” they chorused. Thor held up the jar he was carrying. “We got you some flowers.” 

“And we drew you some pictures,” Loki added, coming over to the bed with some papers clutched in his hand. 

“Oh, thank you, the flowers are lovely! Place them right there on that table, Thor, and come show me your drawings.” She took the papers from Loki and patted the mattress beside her. Promptly Loki climbed onto the bed to snuggle into her side, a small, soft warm presence, while Thor scrambled up next to him and crawled over her body to plop himself down on her other side. Odin sat up and leaned over Thor to see the drawings as well. The top one was done in coloured chalk, perfect for capturing the texture of fur, and Frigga smiled as she recognised the black and orange patches on the rounded white shapes in the center, one large and three small. 

“It’s Runa and her kittens!” She’d taken both boys to visit the barn cat and her litter a few days ago, instructing them to sit still and quietly and let the kittens approach them if they wanted to. Thor, ever boisterous, had kept fidgeting and whispering, but Loki had sat perfectly still, enraptured by the three small shapes, and had been rewarded when one of the exploring kittens had wobbled over on unsteady legs and had determinedly pulled itself up onto Loki’s lap, where he’d gently stroked it until it had started purring remarkably loudly for a creature of its size. 

“Yes!” He beamed proudly. “Do you like it?’

“I do indeed, and I love the flowers you drew around the border; they’re very bright and cheerful.” She moved his picture underneath the other one and saw what Thor had drawn. “Oh, Thor, this is really very good.” She admired the dragon rendered in Thor’s careful pencil work. “I should have you design a tapestry for me.”

“Really?” Thor sounded delighted by the idea. 

“Why not? Where is this dragon flying to, for instance?”

“His cave, in a mountain,” said Thor. “And it’s filled with his treasure horde.”

“I hope he’s a peaceful dragon,” said Frigga. “I’d hate for anyone to want to hurt him.” 

Thor’s face fell at that, as if he’d already been dreaming about slaying the dragon and winning some glory for himself. “I suppose he could be, if you wanted.”

“I do,” said Frigga firmly. “And perhaps he could have a younger dragon brother to fly by his side?”

“Me and Loki!” Thor enthused. “We could be the dragons! And we live in the cave together and go out and have adventures.”

“That would make a very nice tapestry,” agreed Frigga. “You boys could have it for your room.”

“I’ll start sketching it later today,” Thor promised. 

“What about us?” Odin asked. “Can your mother and I live in your cave while you boys go out flying around on adventures?”

“Yes! I’ll draw you two lying at the entrance with just your snouts sticking out. You can be a gold dragon, Father, and you a blue one, Mother. What about you, Loki?”

“Green,” said Loki promptly. 

“Well, I shall look forward to this epic picture,” said Odin, ruffling Thor’s hair. “It’s a very good likeness of a dragon, Thor. And I like yours as well, Loki.” 

“How big should I make the drawing, Mother?”

“We’ll figure that out after breakfast. Speaking of which, why don’t you two go get dressed and ready for the day and we’ll do the same, and we’ll come collect you for breakfast when we’re ready.” She leaned first to the left and then the right, kissing the tops of her sons’ heads. “Thank you for the presents; they’re beautiful.” 

“You’re welcome.” Loki knelt up on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tightly. “Happy name day, Amma.” 

Frigga hugged him back, smoothing a hand over his tousled curls. “Thank you, my darling.” She released him and he slid off the bed, giving Thor room to climb over her and follow suit. He leaned over to give her his own hug once he was on his feet. 

“Happy name day,” he echoed. “I’ll help Loki get ready.” 

“Thank you, my sweet.” She gave him a squeeze and let him go, watching as he took Loki by the hand and led his little brother from the room. She turned to Odin, beaming. “I think we have the best boys in the entire Nine Realms.”

The skin around Odin’s eye crinkled up. “I’ll remind you of that the next time Thor lets his temper get the better of him or Loki’s curiosity leads him into trouble.”

“I didn’t say they were _perfect_ ,” Frigga said. “Perfect would be boring. And we both know who Thor got his temper from.” She looked at him pointedly. 

“I feel like I should be offended but I know you’re right,” Odin admitted. “But if he can learn to channel it, it’ll prove a great asset in battle one day. And at least he got your sweetness of heart to counter it.” Odin leaned over and kissed her. 

“Flatterer,” she said fondly. “And what of Loki? What does he have of us?”

“He has your sweetness as well, and your cleverness, and your sensitivity to magic.” Odin looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure what he has of me. My eyes, perhaps,” he joked. “Or my eye; he only ever saw the one.”

“He has your watchfulness,” said Frigga, after a moment of thinking. “He knows how to sit and listen quietly, and remember what he hears. And how to choose his words with care.”

“If he picked that up from me, then I am well pleased,” approved Odin. “Let us hope that he grows up with a taste for politics; those traits will serve him well.” He rolled out of bed. “Come, we had best bestir ourselves before our hungry young dragonlings decide to go foraging for themselves and leave nothing but crumbs and wreckage in their wake.” 

Frigga laughed -- but she could picture the scenario all too well. She bestirred herself. 

* * *

  
  
Loki woke with his heart pounding. Just a nightmare, he told himself, but telling himself that and truly believing it were two different things entirely. It would have been easier if he had been able to simply look to his side and see Thor asleep in his bed, but they had recently been given separate rooms, and he wasn’t sure, at the moment, that he liked it. He sat up, throwing back the covers and swinging his feet down onto the floor. He slipped from his bedroom and made his way across the common room that connected his and Thor’s chambers, the sky outside the windows lit with the brilliance of the stars, and quietly looked into Thor’s bedroom. Thor lay sprawled out on his bed, motionless, but Loki could hear his soft breathing from where he stood and was reassured. He retreated and made his way out into the hallway, and crossed over to his parents’ rooms, feeling the light tingle of the wards that, he knew would permit no one other than himself or his brother to enter once his parents had retired for the night. He passed light-footed through his mother’s weaving room and paused, hovering in the doorway of their bedroom, looking and listening. His parents lay back to back, his mother nearest to him, and after a minute he was sure of the slow rise and fall of the blanket covering her. He moved further into the room, just needing to be sure that his father was all right, too, before he could go back to bed. 

“Loki?”

His mother’s voice was quiet, sleepy, but Loki nearly jumped out of his skin and couldn’t help letting out a squeak of alarm. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?”

“Nightmare,” whispered Loki back. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Want to come in?” Frigga held up the blankets invitingly, scooting back away from the edge of the bed to give Loki more room. She bumped back against Odin’s solid form and he grunted and woke. 

“Hmphm?” he murmured, still half asleep. 

“Scoot back.”

Odin obliged, but lifted his head, confused, when Frigga followed after him and spied a black head silhouetted against the dim light of the room. “Loki?”

“I’m sorry, I just had a nightmare and needed to make sure you were all right before I tried to go to sleep again,” Loki apologised again. “I’ll go now.”

“Are you sure?” Odin moved back further on the wide bed, putting space between him and Frigga, and wished all parenting decisions were as easy as knowing what to do when your child came to you upset in the middle of the night. “You could come in between us, safest place in the Nine Realms."

Frigga smiled and moved back towards the edge of the bed, creating a perfect Loki-sized space in between them and lifted the covers higher. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Loki hesitated a second, then his feet carried him forward and he scrambled over his mother’s body. Up close, his father looked strange with his eyepatch left off for the night, but he had seen the scarred socket before, and he only glanced at it for a moment before nestling down between his parents and feeling his father’s arm drape comfortingly over him.

“That’s it,” Odin pressed a kiss to Loki’s hair. “I’ve got you; you’re safe.” 

Frigga turned over and curled around Loki from the other side, letting the covers fall back down over them and reaching out to rub his shoulder. “Do you want to tell us about your dream?”

“I wasn’t in any _danger_ ,” said Loki. “I was just...alone, here in the palace. It was completely empty; I couldn’t find anyone. But then finally, I found you. Except you were lying like you were laid out for a funeral boat, and I knew you were dead.” He took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with the scent of her, and felt the lingering dread from the nightmare dissipate. “And then I woke up.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Frigga stroked his hair soothingly. “I’m sorry, what a terrible dream. But I promise you that I am very much here and alive and have no plans to go anywhere anytime soon.”

Odin’s heart ached for his son. It was a common theme that ran through Loki’s nightmares, that of being alone and abandoned. Sometimes he was someplace cold, and crying for help that didn’t come, and Odin knew the source of that one. Sometimes Loki was surrounded by fire, and Asgard was burning around him, and that one worried him. This one...well, he knew how close Loki was to his mother; his mind probably couldn’t think of a worse scenario. “No more do I,” said Odin, hugging Loki just a little bit tighter. He thought of saying something serious, about how he still had a good many years left in him yet despite his age, but decided instead on levity. “You won’t get rid of us that easily.” He tickled Loki’s stomach. 

Loki giggled and grabbed at his father’s hand. “Good,” he said firmly. His father turned his hand, slotted his larger fingers through Loki’s own, and left his hand there, covering Loki’s reassuringly. Loki relaxed, feeling warm and safe and most definitely not alone. “You don’t think I’m a baby for not wanting to be alone after a nightmare?” he asked hesitantly, just to make sure. 

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Frigga reassured him. “I expect you’re still getting used to waking up alone in a room of your own, aren’t you?” She had often enough, through the years, looked in on the boys at night to find them snuggled up together in one bed to suspect that they had found comfort in each other after bad dreams. Certainly Loki hadn’t sought their bed in a while. 

“Yes, exactly,” said Loki, grateful that she understood. “I used to be able to wake up and see Thor sleeping in his bed and know that it had just been a dream and that everything was all right.”

“Your mother and I are lucky,” Odin pointed out. “If we have a bad dream, we have someone right here next to us to say that everything is all right and that it was only a dream.”

“I never thought of that,” said Loki thoughtfully. “Do you have bad dreams, Father?”

“I do, sometimes.”

“What about?”

“The usual, I think. Losing someone that I love, being lost. Finding myself in front of a crowd of people and realising that I don’t have any clothes on.” 

Loki’s eyes widened and he lifted his head, twisting around to look back at his father. “You have that one, too?”

Frigga laughed. “I think we all have, at one time or another. I used to have that one when I was younger, but no more. I seem to have grown out of it, thank the Norns.” Odin had handled that question well, she thought. Loki didn’t need to be burdened with the details of his father’s nightmares. She heard the first birds begin to call outside, but since the birds had gone to bed hours before she had, she felt justified in ignoring them. “Go back to sleep, little one,” she told Loki softly. “Morning will be here soon enough.” 

Loki closed his eyes obediently, and she began to sing softly, the words of the lullaby unforgotten through the years. Frigga watched him, his lashes lying dark against his cheeks, his breathing growing slow, and even, until she was sure he was asleep, and quietly finished the last verse. She glanced at Odin then, to see him watching her, the expression in his eye soft. “I half wish Thor were here as well,” she confessed in a whisper. “Perhaps he’ll come hunting down his brother in the morning. Then I could have all my boys snuggled in safe around me.” 

Odin looked amused. “Are you implying that I am one of your boys as well?”

“You are.” Frigga’s tone of voice dared him to say otherwise. “Mine to love, mine to care for.” 

“Good,” he said with satisfaction, sounding remarkably like Loki had but a short while earlier, and closed his eye, a contented smile on his face. 

Frigga watched her husband and son with a heart full of love. She should suggest that Odin spend some time with the boys tomorrow; both Loki and Thor were always hungry for more of their father's time and attention. And they were old enough now to learn more of the behind the scenes work of ruling the realm; perhaps if she framed it as an educational opportunity, Odin would agree it was worth carving out the time from his schedule. She found Odin's and Loki's joined hands under the covers, and laid her own atop them. drifting off to dream of the day when her sons would stand side by side and lead Asgard into a bright and shining future.

* * *

“Loki! Why are you still abed? Did you forget that we were going to go hunting this morning?” Thor came bursting into Loki’s bedroom with all of his usual exuberance, undeterred by the fact that his brother was still, obviously, asleep, or had been up until a moment ago.

Loki groaned and buried his head under his pillow. “Changed my mind. Tomorrow’s better. Go away. I’m sleeping.” 

Thor spied a familiar-looking book on Loki’s nightstand, the same one he’d been reading last night at supper. “Were you up all night reading?”

“What if I was? Some of us wish to improve our minds.” Thor was quiet for a moment, and Loki had the vain hope that Thor would go away and leave him in peace. Then he felt his covers yanked back, and squawked in protest. 

“And some of us wish to go hunting with our brother,” said Thor cheerfully. “Come on, the fresh air will wake you up.” He took hold of Loki’s legs.

“Thor, don’t you _dare_ , I’m warning you --”

Thor pulled. 

There was a flash of green. It was followed by a startled croak.

Loki peered over the edge of his bed at the large green frog sitting on his floor. It looked back at him mournfully. “I warned you. Now hop along and stay out of trouble and I’ll change you back this afternoon. If you want to go hunting then, fine, if not, I promise to go to bed earlier tonight and we’ll go tomorrow morning.” 

The frog tried to walk, one webbed foot at a time, towards Loki’s bedroom door, before figuring out how to manage his long legs and gave a short hop, then a longer one, and presently disappeared from sight. He was going to be in so much trouble when he changed Thor back, Loki thought, but some things were worth it. He wondered if Thor would brave going to their mother, or if he would have the sense to simply wait the morning out in his rooms. The first option would restore him to his own form faster, if he made it into Frigga’s presence and could convince her of his identity, but it also risked him being seen by a member of the staff and deposited outside in a pond. Grinning at that mental image, he pulled his blankets back up and let his head sink back into his pillow. He reclosed his door with a wave of his hand and sank happily back into slumber.

\----------

Thor glared at the back of the retreating servant from his current position submerged in the cool, pleasant water of the large pond in the palace gardens. He had almost made it to Mother’s rooms, too, before the servant had spotted him and had managed to scoop him up before he had realised the danger he was in, unable to communicate the fact that he was not, in fact, a common frog who had somehow managed to get into the palace but the crown prince of Asgard who had been shapeshifted by his little brother. He tried not to think about the indignity of being bundled up in some woman’s apron as he had tried to kick and wriggle his way free, and climbed up onto a lily pad to ponder his next move. The warrior in him wanted to immediately charge back into the palace and try to find his mother, but if he had not been able to cross the relatively short distance between his brother's and his parent's rooms without being noticed, he had to admit it was even far more unlikely that he could make it from here. And the sun was warm on his back and he thought about the fact that his mother went for a walk in the gardens every morning; perhaps she would come by the pond? It really would be easier to wait for her here. His eyes, which had drifted shut, snapped open as he heard a buzzing sound. His tongue shot out without any active input from his brain. 

It took an hour of steady drinking in a tavern, after Loki had found him and changed him back into his normal form, before Thor felt like he had washed the taste of flies from his mouth. 

* * *

Loki lay in bed and watched the dim lighting of the cell brighten. Morning, he assumed, though really he had no way of knowing, would never see the sky again. How early was it? he wondered. Was the sky still pink and gold from the sunrise, or had it already turned to blue? The constant white glare of the cell bothered him more each day, made him long for the shaded green places in his mother’s gardens (he could not think of her as anything else in his heart), or the dim recesses of the library, lit by the warm glow of lamps, or the muted light filtering in through the curtains in his rooms. At first it had been enough to have a place where he knew he was safe, where he could simply let down all his defenses and rest without fear or pain. He had slept for long stretches of time, those first weeks, while his body healed, waking only to eat ravenously of the food that was delivered to him. He heard the rattle of a meal tray being delivered now, the curt “Breakfast” spoken by the guard before they disappeared again. He rose and went to collect the tray. 

It had not escaped his notice that his meals weren’t standard prison fare, that there was usually at least one thing on his tray that was something that he particularly liked. There was always fresh fruit and juice for breakfast, and today, a veritable feast of a mushroom and cheese omelette and hot buttered toast and the spicy sausages his mother knew he liked, because of course it was her doing, he knew that much. There was even, astonishingly, a bottle of elven wine. the explanation for which was in the new book that had accompanied his breakfast tray. He opened it and read the inscription on the flyleaf: 

_My dearest son,_

_It seems cruel to wish you a happy name day, but I hope these small tokens of my affection will give you some pleasure on this day nevertheless. I tell myself it is better than last year, when I still thought you dead, and if you are kept apart from me, at least I know that you are alive and well. And I let myself hope that next year will be better yet, that something will have changed, for I refuse to believe otherwise. I will find a way to force it to change myself, if I have to. If you would only tell us what happened to you, give your father a reason to trust you again -- But this is not the time or the place to chide you for that, only know that when you are ready to talk I will be here to listen. And know that I will never stop loving you, nor celebrating the day you arrived in our lives, for you are one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given. As always, I remain_

_\-- your loving Mother_

He cried bitter tears then, tears of longing to feel her arms around him again, and tears of regret for his lost life. He wanted, desperately, to see the sky, to breathe fresh air, to walk without coming up against a wall after more than a few paces. Would it change anything if he told? He tried to remember why he hadn’t, that first day when he’d been brought back and paraded before Odin in chains. Spite? Anger? Shame? To show his parents how it felt to have a secret kept from them? Yes, all of those, he knew, but were they worth it? Did he want Thanos to come upon an Asgard unwarned, and unready? He thought of the palace littered with bodies, of the palace empty of life save for the slaughtered bodies of those who had had the chance to fight, and remembered, with a sudden chill, the nightmare that he had had more than once as a youth. He thought of his mother dead, and not knowing until one day a meal tray arrived with plain prison fare, no special treats. No more books. Of never seeing anyone again except the guard who delivered the meals, of never being able to have an actual conversation with anyone again. Alone, forgotten. Except no, _Thanos_ would not forget him. Panic rose up and engulfed him, and he reached for the wine, uncorking it and taking a healthy swig. 

The wine helped a little, but he couldn’t truly relax until his mother’s projection appeared in the afternoon and the relief that swept through him almost made him giddy. He thanked her for the gifts, and was ashamed at how the basic courtesy made her face light up like the sun. 

“I only wish that I could do more.” Her hand rose, as if she would cradle his face. 

Loki fought the urge to turn into the touch, lest the contact shatter her illusion, and allowed himself to imagine he could feel the warmth of her hand upon his skin. “Tell me what it’s like outside today,” he said impulsively. “Is the sky blue?”

“It is, clear and blue with a few puffy white clouds floating around. It is just past midday, and the garden is full of the scent of the roses in bloom.”

She seemed to know what he craved, and painted a picture of the gardens with her words that invoked all his senses. And when he didn’t stop her, she continued on with all the everyday details of life in the palace lately, what she was doing to fill her time and then what was going on in the greater Realm, slowly expanding his world. She took it as a good sign, that he was finally expressing an interest in the outside world. 

Loki knew her time for him was up when she glanced behind her, as someone obviously came into the room where her body stood. 

“I must go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised. “Imagine me giving you a kiss and a hug, and I swear that I shall one day do so in fact.”

“Mother,” Loki said quickly, before she could vanish, the careful “Allmother” that he sometimes used never having become easy or comfortable on his tongue. “Thank you for coming. And what you asked of me -- in the book -- I will consider it.” 

Her face lit up again. “I am glad to hear that. And I will never, _ever_ stop coming to see you, until the day that you are able to come and see _me_.” She held out her hands to him, letting him be the one to dispel her illusion in the little ritual they had developed, and reluctantly, he brought his hands down on hers, an almost physical pang running through him when there was no solidity of contact and she vanished in a shimmer of gold. 

  
  
“Husband,” Frigga said cooly, turning to face her visitor. “What brings you here at this time of day?” 

“Do I need an excuse to come see my beautiful wife?’ Odin asked, a challenging glint in his eye. 

“Well, if you have no matters to bring to my attention…” She trailed off, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she faced him. “I wish to see Loki.”

“Do you not already see him?” he countered. 

Frigga froze, had he seen or was he only guessing? His face was that inscrutable mask which served him so well as king but which she hated to see on her husband. 

Odin sighed. “I know you send your projections to him, you need not worry about that.”

Frigga relaxed. “Ah. I had wondered, but it seemed better not to bring it up if you were willing to overlook it,” she confessed.

“After that first time, when you didn’t press me further to allow you to visit him, I surmised that you had found your own way of seeing him. I know your abilities, and I know you would not let anything keep you from either one of your children if you thought they had need of you.” 

“I would not,” she agreed, steel in her voice. 

Odin dropped his head, half turning away from her. “I had no right to forbid you from seeing him in the first place. It was wrong, and it was cruel, and I am sorry for it. I wish that I had a better excuse, but in the moment, I was simply angry that he, too, had chosen to attack what he had sworn to defend. Jotunheim I could understand, to some extent, but Midgard?” He closed his eye briefly, feeling the weight of his years, and admitted the ugly truth about himself. “And I spoke what I knew would hurt him most.”

“Yet not sorry enough to take it back once you had spoken.” 

“It would have been seen as a sign of weakness.”

“It would have been seen as a sign of compassion!” Frigga snapped, then shook her head. Anger would not get her what she wanted, she knew that much. “So alike, the two of you are, always knowing the words that will wound deepest."

Odin fiddled with a paperweight sitting on a table, a simple, smooth stone with a design on it that had once been painstakingly painted by a young boy. “I remember asking once, what of me you saw in Loki. I had hoped for a better legacy than ‘cruel’ and ‘obstinate’.”

“It is not too late to fix things, Odin,” she urged. “A wise king knows when to admit he is wrong, and to correct his mistakes instead of letting them continue unchecked because he is not man enough to face up to them. When has Loki ever responded well to harshness? Perhaps he would not have stayed so recalcitrant in his refusal to speak of what befell him if you had showed some sign of kindness when he was returned to us. Who knows how long he spent in the Void, unable to think of anything but the fact that he no longer felt that he had a family? That his entire life was a lie? Small wonder he emerged mad, if that is all that happened, but I do not think it is. He did not just stumble onto an army of Chitauri and decide to invade Midgard because he wanted a throne. You did not see his face when I had Gungnir handed to him; he did not expect it, he did not _want_ it. He did not desire rule, only respect, to be seen as Thor’s equal, to make you proud. Would it have killed you to have welcomed him back as his father before you pronounced judgement as his king?” Frigga could not help her voice rising again in condemnation. 

“Invading another realm was not the way to gain that respect, nor trying to completely obliterate one!” Odin protested, turning back to her in anger, then his defiance dropped away. He did not want to turn this conversation into a fight anymore than Frigga did. “Never mind Jotunheim, not now. As I said, I understand something of what drove him to attack it, and though I do not condone such an extreme action, it was within his rights as ruling king at the time to retaliate for Laufey’s attack on Asgard. But it is what followed after that complicated matters. I could not simply banish him to another realm to learn a lesson as I did with Thor because I do not _know_ what lesson he needs to learn, and I do not _know_ if that realm would be safe, and most of all, I do not _know_ whether Loki himself would be safe, or whether he might attempt to end his own life again.” Odin looked at her bleakly, the memory of Loki’s face as his son let go of Gungnir and let himself fall into the Void one that still haunted his nightmares. “What else could I have done, other than what I did? And what would you have me do now?”

“It was not what you did but how you did it,” Frigga allowed, for Loki had been a threat that needed containing at the time, even she had to acknowledge that. “But as for now -- be his father! If you want to get him to trust you again, you have to show him that you deserve it. And you can start by letting me visit him, in person.”

“Why now?” he asked, stalling a bit but also curious. “Why have you waited this long to ask again?”

Frigga pursed her lips. “To be honest, until today, I have not been sure if he would welcome my actual presence,” she admitted. 

“And today?”

“It was a good day; he was quieter, more settled.”

The corner of Odin’s mouth turned up. “Perhaps we should have sent wine long before this.”

“Do you know _everything_?” she demanded in exasperation. 

“I wish I did. I would give much to know what happened to Loki in the year that he was gone. But do you not think I look in on my son every now and then? I know what today is as well as you do.”

“I don’t think it was just the wine. It had been opened when I arrived, yes, but not enough was gone to influence him in any way. I think he is just...coming back to himself.”

Odin thought of the way Loki had sat quietly and listened to his mother today, as he had watched from Hlidskjalf for a while before withdrawing his Sight and giving them their privacy, no longer the ranting, rage-filled man who had come back to them. It had been a slow change, but a steady one, and he thought longingly of the possibility of one day having his son back. Loki was not Hela, he reminded himself, despite their remarkable physical similarity. The Norns must have been laughing at him when they had sent him Loki’s way. A second chance, to raise a raven-haired child right. And he thought he had done so. Loki had not been molded for war, had not grown up without the softness of love. A succession of memories flashed through Odin’s mind. A baby, smiling and quieting as soon as he was picked up. A small body nestled against his. A boy trustingly slipping his hand into Odin’s. A young man walking with his mother’s hand tucked securely through his arm, love and pride in every line of his bearing. A son grown tall and strong, a son any man would be proud of. Had he told that to Loki often enough, or had he simply assumed that he knew, that that was what Odin had been saying whenever he laid an approving hand on Loki’s back or shoulder, whenever he trusted him with some matter of state, some diplomatic mission? Somewhere along the way they had lost that closeness which Loki and Frigga still had, and Odin had never regretted it more than when Loki had learned of a heritage which did not matter in the slightest to him, but had driven Loki to such despair that he had no longer seen a reason to go on living. 

“Odin?” Frigga’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

Odin cast back to the last thing she had said, and remembered, Loki coming back to himself. “I pray that it is so.” He paced across her room, thinking. He was going to agree to Frigga’s request, he knew, but he wondered if he could get something more out of it. Loki’s refusal to talk of what had happened to him during the year he was beyond all their sight irritated him in more ways than the simple defiance of it. Nothing about Midgard made _sense_ ; was that simply because Loki had not been thinking rationally at the time or was there a huge puzzle piece there that they were missing? His instincts said the latter, and he wished not for the first time that Thor had managed to bring home the weapon Loki had wielded along with his brother, wondered if there might not be a clue there. If the Bifrost had not been shattered, he would have gone and demanded it of the mortals himself, and not taken no for an answer. Or was he simply looking for a reason which would justify Loki’s actions, that he might give him a chance to redeem himself, as he had given Thor? He nearly growled in frustration as he came up once again against his complete lack of knowledge. 

“How much do you think he wishes for your company?” he asked. “Enough to finally tell us what happened to him in exchange for it?”

“I don’t know,” Frigga admitted. “But he did say he would consider talking about it when I mentioned it again today.” 

Odin brightened at that. "Considering" was not "agreeing to", but it was the first time that Loki had even given them that much. “Then perhaps we should wait until he comes to that decision. If we give him something that he wants before he does so, it might remove the impetus to give us what we want." 

“ _Odin_ ,” Frigga pleaded, allowing all of her yearning to come through in her voice. “I have not been able to hold my son in over two years. Have not been able to offer even the comfort of a single touch.”

Odin hesitated, then gave in. “A week. We will give him a week, and if he does not say anything more about it, then I will go to him with my offer.” It was hardly any time at all, when Loki had held out this long, but he was tired of being at odds with his wife, and hoped this would help mend the rift between them. 

“And if he refuses it?”

Odin looked at her face, saw the fear that she would be further denied the chance to visit her son, and felt shame that he was the cause of it. If Loki scorned him as weak for this, then so be it. He would make this one thing right. “Then you may visit him anyway.” 

Frigga’s face lit with joy, and the next thing he knew she had her arms around him, and he tried to get his arms up to embrace her back, for he had not been favoured with such attention for a long time, but she was already stepping back, her hands lingering on his shoulders for a moment while she beamed at him. 

“Thank you,” she said with heartfelt fervour. 

“Am I forgiven?” he asked hopefully. 

“Ask me again when I have held my son in my arms,” she said, but she was still smiling, and Odin’s heart felt lighter than it had for a long time.

As it turned out, they didn’t even have to wait a week.

\----------

As if thinking of the old dream conjured it back into existence, Loki was haunted by it again that night. Running through the empty palace, looking for someone, anyone, only to find, at last, Frigga, laid out and lifeless and waking to his heart pounding in panicked dread. And for the first time in his life, he could do nothing to reassure himself of her safety other than wait for her visit. When she arrived, he took a deep breath of relief. Only a nightmare, he told himself. But it was harder to dismiss when he woke from the same dream the next morning, except this time he had heard Thanos’s laughter when he had come upon his mother’s dead body, and impossible the third. He was too agitated to eat breakfast and paced restlessly until Frigga finally showed up. 

“Tell the Allfather,” he said, having made up his mind that he had to do something, that if the Norns were sending him a message he could not risk ignoring it. If he could not be free to guard his mother’s life, then he must give up what knowledge he had that would allow her to be best prepared to defend herself if and when Thanos broke into the Nine.“That I will answer any questions he may have in return for you being allowed to visit me in person.”

Joy swept through Frigga. “He will be hearing petitioners now,” she said. “Shall I interrupt him or wait till he breaks for the midday meal?”

“Better wait." He didn't want his mother to leave when she had just arrived, and it would give him time to prepare what he was going to say, how much he needed to reveal. "But do it today."

“I will,” she promised. 

\------------

A couple of hours later, Loki came to his feet as he heard approaching footsteps and stood facing the front of his cell, his hands clasped behind his back. He tensed as he saw Odin, but his heart leapt when he saw his mother following behind him. 

“Loki,” Odin greeted. “I understand you wish to strike a deal.” 

“I do. I will answer any questions that you have in exchange for mother being allowed to visit me whenever she wishes. _Inside_ my cell,” he stressed. When Odin didn’t respond immediately, he swallowed his pride and added “I swear I will not hurt her, nor attempt to use her in any way to escape this place.” 

“I never thought that you would hurt her,” Odin admitted after a moment, and glanced at Frigga, then gestured towards the cell. “Very well. Go ahead.” 

Two long strides forward and Frigga was deactivating the energy barrier that formed the front of the cell, one more and she was pulling Loki into her arms. 

“ _Loki_ ,” she breathed out fervently. “My son.” 

It had happened so fast, Loki hadn’t been prepared for it, and flinched back for a second, from the shock of being touched after so long without it, and because for so long before that, touch had always meant pain instead of comfort. He didn’t know what to do for a moment, but then her scent hit him, the smell of herbs and flowers and fresh air, that whispered ‘home’ and ‘safe’ and ‘loved’, and his arms came up instinctively as he wrapped her up tight in his embrace and buried his face against her neck. “ _Mother_ ,” he said desperately, and then quieter, for her ears alone, “ _Amma_.” 

“I’ve got you,” Frigga whispered, burying her hand for the first time in the new length of his hair. “You’re safe.” 

Odin heard them both, and relief and remorse swept through him in equal measures. Their son was still in there, still reachable, but looking at Loki’s face was almost painful. Whatever happened today, he vowed he would not keep them apart again. Belatedly he realised he had not reactivated the energy barrier and stepped forward to do so.

Loki heard the faint hum crackle back into life and glanced up, a faint smirk on his face. "A bit slow there, weren't you? I could have teleported right out of here in a second."

Frigga tightened her grip on him. "If you had tried, you would have had to take me with you."

"What an excellent idea, Mother," Loki said brightly. "Where would you like to go?"

She gave him an admonishing shake. "Don't tempt me, you."

"And yet you didn't," said Odin. "Perhaps I am simply choosing to trust my son to keep his word, that he will not try to use his mother's presence in an attempt to escape. Am I wrong to do so?"

Loki shook his head, and raised his chin a notch. "You are not."

"Good. In return, I ask you to trust me, Loki. Tell me what happened to you. Let me help you, if I can." 

“I will save you time and tell you the only thing that you need to know. Thanos the mad Titan seeks the Infinity Stones, and a way into the Nine. Asgard must prepare her defenses and stop him from finding them all.”

Odin's mind instantly flashed back to the conversation that he’d had with Thor on his return to Asgard, when he had grilled him about everything that he could remember Loki doing or saying on Midgard, seeking some clue to his youngest son’s behaviour. 

_He had a sceptre, with a blue stone, with the ability to control the minds of others_. 

_He was not like himself at all. He looked unwell, and afraid at times, and the manner in which he attacked was so unlike his usual style that I thought he must be in league with someone else._

_I thought I was reaching him, when I asked him to stop and come home. For a moment I could see the brother that I knew in his eyes, but then he said that it was too late to go back, and he shook it off and went back to the attack._

A picture was coming together in Odin’s mind, and it was not one that he liked. Loki, his mind already broken, falling into the hands of a being of incomparable power, one who wished to escape his exile outside of the Nine. Thanos discovering that Loki had the ability to walk the shadow paths between worlds. Had the scepter truly borne a blue stone, or had it been a yellow stone concealed in a blue housing? Were the mortals the only ones it had been used upon? The Tesseract. Mind stone and space stone. One risked to gain a second, a ploy that had failed. If Thanos could break into the Nine, it would not only be the Stones he came after, Odin guessed, it would be Loki, for failing to deliver what he had been sent for. For he had no doubt now that Loki had been sent. A year gone, beyond Heimdall’s view. How much of that time had been spent in the Void, how much being broken until his proud, powerful son had been turned into a tool to be used? Had Midgard been offered as a reward for service, or had Loki wanted it as a sanctuary, a bulwark against the Mad Titan when he felt he no longer had a right to claim Asgard as his home? _Oh, Loki,_ Odin thought, his heart clenching for his son. _What did he do to you?_ He reached out and deactivated the force field at the front of the cell again, and walked in to join his wife and son, meeting Loki’s startled gaze steadily. He had failed his son once, he was not going to fail him again. 

“On the contrary, I think I’m going to need to know a great deal more than that.” 

Loki, still standing within the circle of his mother's arms, stared. Odin had set the barrier to re-form behind him, effectively trapping him inside the cell with Loki. He would need to call the guard now to let him out. "Was that wise? Locking yourself in with a dangerous criminal? I only promised not to hurt Mother, you know."

"if I have been so poor of a father that I need fear attack from my own son, then perhaps I deserve it." There had been no threat in Loki's voice, though, merely a pointing out of facts, and Odin grinned mischievously. "You can try, though." 

Unexpectedly, Loki felt the corner of his mouth quirk up, feeling oddly reassured instead of offended that his own strength and skills were being dismissed. He wanted his father to still be strong, he realised, wanted to feel that childhood certainty that Odin could fix anything, that he could handle any problem brought to him and make everything all right again. He knew that wasn't the case anymore, but still, if Asgard were to stand any chance at all against Thanos, she would need the strength of all her warriors, led by a strong king. And that king needed to be armed with knowledge as well as weapons, knowledge that Loki was tired of bearing alone. If nothing else, Odin could share that burden.

"I would not wish to upset Mother," he said diplomatically, and heard Frigga huff beside his ear. 

"No more would I, yet I fear I have done so for far too long. But I am trying to make amends. To you _and_ to her," Odin stressed. "Talk to me, Loki, please. Let me be the father I should have been when you first returned." 

For a change, Loki did not feel the need to deny that Odin was his father, knew he could not do so with any conviction at the moment. If not Odin, then who? Certainly not Laufey, who had left him to die. At least Odin had been there, and was here now, apparently still willing to call Loki his son. Perhaps one imperfect father willing to admit his mistakes was better than none. The anger that he had nurtured for over a year fizzled out, and he swallowed hard. "What more do you wish to know?" 

"Everything."

His mother's hand gripping his tightly, grounding him, Loki took a deep breath and began to talk.

* * *

“Amma.”

Sif woke to a small hand tugging on the sleeve of her nightshirt. A pair of clear blue eyes beneath a head of tousled black curls peered at her from just over the top of the mattress. 

“What is it, Ullr?”

“I had a bad dream.” 

Sif yawned sleepily. “Do you want to spend the rest of the night with us?”

Ullr nodded. “Yes, please.” 

He held up his arms to her, and Sif saw that he had his much-loved stuffed bear with him, a present from his Aunt Jane. She sat up and reached down, lifting Ullr up onto the bed and scooted back. Loki, who was always a light sleeper, woke with an inquisitive noise as she bumped into him.

“Mhm?” He rolled onto his side, automatically reaching out to drape an arm over her and draw her close, and came up against an unexpected shape. He woke a little more. “Sif?”

“It's just Ullr. He had a bad dream.”

“Put him between us, then.” He moved back, making room.

“Go on, Ullr.” Sif held the covers up. “You heard your father.” She smiled as Ullr promptly scrambled over her body and was instantly gathered in close by Loki.

Loki nuzzled Ullr’s hair, breathing in the sweet scent of his son and wrapping an arm securely around him as Sif turned to face them, letting the covers fall back over them, enclosing them in a soft, warm cocoon. Ullr didn’t seem visibly distressed, so either the dream hadn’t been too bad, Loki thought, or the memory of it was already fading. Still, there were words which had to be said.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly. “You’re safe.”


End file.
